


the mariner's call

by everything555everything, Flavortext, Fuzzyface, MamzelleCombeferre



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Adventure, Alternative Universe - Mermaids and Mercreatures, Critical Role Round Robin, F/M, Fantasy, Found Family, Hints of other ships - Freeform, Jester-centric, Merkraken AU, Pre-Relationship, The Start of Something Wonderful, open-ended, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 01:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15763896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everything555everything/pseuds/everything555everything, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flavortext/pseuds/Flavortext, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzzyface/pseuds/Fuzzyface, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamzelleCombeferre/pseuds/MamzelleCombeferre
Summary: Jester lives with her mother by the sea, in the grand manor of the Oyster and Pearl. Around her revolves a busy life of courtesans, sailors, merchants, and the colorful cast of her friends. One night she’s accidentally thrown into the world of Fjord: a mer-kraken, wondering of his place in the world. In any case, the Traveler takes an interest in his favorite cleric getting involved.--This fic is part of the Critical Role Round Robin Fic Challenge, where, between July 8th and August 18th 2018, writers started a new fic and then passed it around their group, each writer adding their contribution until the fic went full circle and returned to its original writer.  That writer then had to revise and edit the fic into readable shape.  This is one result!





	the mariner's call

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys ! this is the result of the Critical Role Round Robin i participated in, organized by the lovely bboiseux.tumblr.com.
> 
> this fic was co-authored by ososhallward.tumblr.com, mamzellecombeferre.tumblr.com, and fuzzy-face.tumblr.com. i am criticaldemiplane.tumblr.com. they were all amazing to work with and i'm happy to have had this experience.
> 
> to designate the switch from author to author, normal scene breaks are noted by "---," and scene breaks that include a shift in author are noted by "-XXXXX-." here are the authors in order:  
> Criticaldemiplane  
> Fuzzy-Face  
> (small flashback by CD)  
> Osroshallward  
> MamzelleCombeferre  
> Criticaldemiplane
> 
> please enjoy the fic !

\--XXXXX--

The _Oyster and Pearl_ sits at the edge of the waters of Nicodranas, facing the dark blue sea. Built of sturdy redwood and easily taking up the space of three lesser properties, the sprawling mansion never sleeps. Every room seen through the wide bay windows is lit from within like a chandelier, the walls all satin-hung, the stages kept busy and the wine flowing well. In the very center of the house is the court where Jester’s mother reigns, and it is here where she likes to watch the Ruby of the Sea sing.

Jester is cross-legged on the small balcony of her room that overlooks the busy room, taking note of the guests and how they all revolve around her mother. As long as she stays unassuming and quiet, she is allowed to watch the night go on.

On the main stage the Ruby of the Sea, tonight dressed in a fiery orange mermaid dress, accepts a glass from the expensive liquor table as she takes some time off. The heads of the room are revolving towards the secondary stage where an ostentatious tiefling, coated in peacock feathers, is starting to work the crowd. Jester considers trying to sneak down to Molly and pester her favorite performer, but doesn’t really have the energy.

Jester sketches on and off, bored. A particularly oily-looking man is cozying up on the stage below and she amuses herself by drawing an exaggerated portrait of hooded figure pouring shampoo down his robes.

She feels a static shock at the back of her neck and Jester jumps, giggling. She loves the little reminders that the Traveller is listening to her, her best friend getting in on her jokes.

Another shock sparks on the sleeve of her drawing hand and Jester gets to her feet, grumbling. If he wants to talk, he can just _ask!_ The Traveller is very powerful, she assures herself, and could surely just talk to her in her mind like in all the books she reads of famous clerics.

Jester’s room is as silky as the rest of the mansion. Her walls are mostly shelves filled with fantasy, adventure, and hidden in the back romance novels. Occasionally she’ll buy new books from the scruffy Zemnian man who visits the mansion every week or so. Not that she’s supposed to be out with the merchants, Jester is supposed to be in her room. Her mother gives her fresh-cut flowers every couple days if she has been quiet and good. Jester is _usually_ quiet and good, but sometimes has a hard time helping herself. She finds herself bursting with excitement all too often and now she twirls across the room, plucking a white rose from its vase and tucking it behind her ear.

Jester flops down on the bed and waits patiently, her tail, adorned with ribbons, flicking from side to side. After a time, though, it becomes apparent that the Traveller is _not_ going to show and Jester sits up, frowning. If the Traveller had stopped her drawing, he must have a reason!

In that moment Jester feels the salt against her skin.

The small glass window of the room is wide open, swaying gently in the breeze. Outside Jester can hear the laughter of those partying on the docks and boathouses that make up the farthest of the _Oyster and Pearl’s_ property.

Jester nearly trips over herself to get to the window, laughing outright. She _has_ been too stir-crazy in this stuffy old house! It’s been far too long since she went out for a proper stargaze.

As she easily lifts herself out the window and down the trellis, Jester is reminded that her mother doesn’t know about these little outings. It’s not like she’s going to see her for the rest of the night— and well into morning. All Jester wants is to get to the water.

No real stealth is required, not with everyone so punchdrunk at night. All Jester has to do as she trots down the wooden steps, hung with golden fairy-lights, is act like she belongs there, and suddenly she does. Rich people, and rich drunk people, are shockingly easy to fool. Maybe that’s why she can’t help herself with her pranks.

Jester’s favorite dock is away from all of the chattering others, a dark, close-to-the-water thing. Bobbing alongside it is a single rowboat, which Jester eagerly unties, easily pulling and knotting where she needs to for her midnight joyride.

Well, if anyone else used this boat. Jester’s marks are all over it in the form of spilled paint, ribbons, carved little notches. She fits her white rose into one of these notches, letting the bloom hang over the water, and she rows.

Past the single pulsing blue lantern at the edge of the dock, the sea is calm and dark. All the lights of Nicodranas can barely push back the vast expanse of black that is the sea at night. The summer air is comfortable, the breeze cool, and the water almost bathwater-hot. As she paddles Jester dips her hand in here and there, enjoying the saltwater slipping through her fingers.

After years of practice on the water Jester is strong and in a short time she is far enough out to comfortably drift. In the distance a long chain of islands blocks the roughest waves from the port, allowing the fishing and tourism to grow as well. The luxury of the mansion sparkles on the shoreline, seeming superficial compared to the endless night sky above.

The stars have moved onto their summer constellations. Jester lays back in the boat and mouths along to the name of each one, throwing her arms up and wiggling to amuse the Traveler if he’s watching. The boat gently rocks beneath her.

In her position, back against the shell of the boat, Jester can clearly feel when something heavy bumps along the underside.

She sits bolt upright, focusing. It’s not unknown for some wayward fish to be a nuisance now or then. Another bump, and then a clear smack to the underside of the rowboat. Unsettled, Jester peers over the side into the opaque water, seeing nothing. She grabs the oars, readying them to start her return, still straining. After a while the water settles again, although the current is churning strangely, as though her boat is now in its own little patch of ocean.

Calm stars swirl overhead. Jester relaxes.

Then with a spray of saltwater she watches a _hand_ reach out of the black water and grab her white rose, and Jester screams.

Immediately she begins rowing as though Tiamat herself is chasing her, fast and powerful strokes through the water. Jester sees a flash of something distinctly fish-like in the water, keeping time with her strokes, and realizes with a sudden horror that whatever this is is _chasing_ her. In her head she begins a steady prayer to the Traveller, thinking through the few spells she knows.

The creature picks up the pace, strange current still swirling. More fleshy, fishy _things_ are popping out and in of the waves. Jester is half-blind with panic and focuses on her lap, rowing as though possessed. She thinks she hears a watery shout-- “ _Wait!”_ \-- but she pays it no mind. Jester doesn’t know she’s back at the dock until the end of her boat slams into it, cracking the painted wood. She grabs onto the dock’s planks at the same time one of those green hands finds leverage on the blade of an oar. As it claws upward the base of the oar reels up and whacks Jester in the jaw, momentarily stunning her. She shakily scrambles backward out of the boat and a few feet onto the dock, bringing a hand to her face and surveying the water frantically.

The eerie blue light of the lantern reveals nothing in the shifting water, the creature suddenly vanished. Slowly, slowly, her rowboat starts to drift to the side of the dock, pushed by the tide. Jester’s breathing slows, hand moving from her face to prop up her weight behind her.

And then with a great splashing, something pulls itself out of the water up to the torso, supporting its weight with rough hands on the edge of the dock.

Jester freezes. All the sound in the world shuts off at that moment. She registers the traits of a male, a half-orc, high cheekbones, luminous yellow eyes that are matching her wide stare. The creature’s mouth is slightly open, as if he’s dumbfounded. He stares at her and through her, taking in the features of the coast, confused.

Jester doesn’t dare breathe, let alone move, as he snaps his gaze back. A beat passes. He raises one hand and reaches towards her, faltering for a second, but easily closing the distance. The creature’s fingerpads just barely touch the bruise of her jawline, oddly careful. Jester flinches away from the touch.

He pulls his hand back immediately, startled. A low keening comes from him and then words.

“I’m… sorry.” The apology is accented and croaked, as though this creature hasn’t spoken words in a long, long time.

Jester glances down to where the water is lapping and realizes the lower half of this half-orc splits off, again and again, into thick segments. The shifting blue light shows where they resurface further down the water, mottled green-brown-black. Jester commits the sight to memory. Clearly, impossibly, they’re _tentacles._

Jester pushes herself to her feet and she runs.

\---

Alone in her room she firmly shuts the window and prays to the Traveler. Jester is not stupid or insane and knows what she saw. She sketches the strange— quarter-orc?— with buoys surrounding him shaped like question marks. When she finishes Jester feels a burst of transplanted happiness from her god.

Whatever has just happened, it is apparently right. Jester’s panic settles down into a slow simmer of curiosity. She knows that she is in no danger, now.

“Okay, Traveler,” she announces out loud. “I don’t really understand what you want me to do so much, but I’ll… try to do it!”

The _Oyster and Pearl_ is a grand complex that attracts all manner of diverse peoples, but it is still only a tiny slice of land when compared to the mass that is Wildemount. Jester pulls thick books from her shelf and flops down on her bed to browse, pulling out maps for the fun of it. She knows that the world is vast out there, and there is all manner of things that she has no knowledge of. A strange mer-creature obviously falls into this vast category, so Jester sets about the rest of the night trying to fill in the holes.

By mid-morning Jester jerks awake with her cheek stuck to an open book, a thin trail of drool joining the two. She groggily un-sticks the book, wiping with her sleeve at the sticky page. The pages of the book, a small volume titled _Menagerie Mythology,_ are so thin that Jester can now see through to the illustration on the next page. She squints her bleary eyes. Behind the close-knit text is dark, twisting lines, a particular mottled pattern…

Jester sits bolt upright, quickly flipping the page and rotating the illustration. Vertical, spread across two pages, is an illustration of a giant squid-like creature, its multitude of tentacles outlined and noted across the paper. The tentacles reach down, down, helpful marking denoting the ocean depth they reach to. Jester doesn’t know what the numbers mean in practical terms, but it seems like a _lot._

At the very top of the drawing the creature is strangling a tiny sailing ship. Jester slowly lowers the book, frowning. The creature she met last night was nowhere as big as that! Unless he has had some sort of spell, or bloodline, or curse….

A rustling sound startles her out of her reverie. Further up on the bed Jester’s oft-used notebook has spontaneously flipped open to a new, lined page. Jester stretches her arms upward, squeezing her eyes closed, and then opens them again with a huff. Moving to her desk, she sits and starts copying information, carefully, carefully.

Jester knows of strange creatures of the depth, prehistoric monsters, shelled abominations, all manner of things she’s read on sleepless nights. She had thought _merfolk,_ and adds to her pool of knowledge scratching in the title at the top of the page: _Kraken._

\---

After a quick breakfast, Jester scurries down the trellis again. She had checked her notebook’s schedule against her mother’s records, confirming the approved merchant’s schedule. Jester will have to wait an extra day for Caleb and his assistant to come to the mansion again, hopefully bringing more information. Jester is on a _quest,_ now, and she can feel the thrum of excitement thrill through her, as she drops down to the grass.

In summer, all is in full display on the Menagerie Coast. All of the plants are bright, the sun beats down relentlessly, the fabrics from the travelling stagecoaches and carts seem to burst like ripe fruits into the salty air. Down below the hill, the ocean rolls itself over and over, breaking from dull blue to foamy white.

Jester finds herself sweating as she dutifully avoids the guards, more regulated in daytime. She shoulders her heavy canvas bag and slinks past, close to the clustered treeline. It isn’t that hard-- the guards on duty where the stairs meet beach are too busy dancing around each other. One is perched on a cherrywood fence post, attempting to compliment the broad-shouldered guard next to her, and Jester smirks as she passes.

She’s thankful her dock is so sheltered, a tiny boathouse blocking sight from the _Oyster and Pearl._ Jester finds herself skipping past the dock at first, sudden giddy excitement making her feel wild. When she next dares to pass the dock, she forces herself to quickly dart onto the planks.

Everything is much the same, almost no elements of her strange encounter with the Kraken-man last night. Yet her rowboat, still splintered at the bow, has been tied with an expert hand, crushed white petals alongside the rope. Jester’s tail flicks upward happily and she takes up a petal, smoothing it along her thumb, again and again and again. Magical blue light, much weaker in day, still pulses at the end of the dock.

Jester spreads out her materials, her books, her notebook. She takes a moment to grasp her holy symbol and chatter to the Traveler. She’s brought snacks, of course, and lays out the pastries on a picnic blanket, even offering her favorite cheese ones up to her deity. Jester sits, sketches, for an hour, drawing silly little comics, the orc’s facial features compared to the one orc man from her secret romance novels, writing down long passages of speculation in the controlled chaos that is Infernal.

Jester lays back and watches the sun plunge again, the gentle waves absorbing more and more heat every time she washes her hands or watercolors. Jester takes a deep breath and glances down at the sketchbook open on her lap, sitting up and placing a manicured blue palm on the symbol. From all her books, from all her guidance, all she’s produced is a simple sigil to bolster the strength of water-magic. With luck it’ll be the siren’s call she needs.

Lantern light reflects off the sigil, clashing with her skin-tone. Her silver holy symbol glints softly, and Jester closes her eyes, sighs.

Ever-pulsing in her very soul, Jester can feel the Traveler, her best friend, her greatest guide. For better or worse, _this_ is right. Jester can feel her endless love extend over the whole ocean, her excitement and charm.

She’s met the Kraken once, and now, she just has to figure out how to get him back.

\--XXXXX--

“You know,” Jester says as she slogs back along the beach, picnic blanket slung heavily over one shoulder, “it is much easier to know what you want me to do if you actually _tell_ me.”

The space around her is empty and silent.

“Well, I can give you the silent treatment too!” She snaps at nothing, and walks a little faster now.

She had waited for what felt like hours at the dock, nibbling her way through her small picnic until all she was doing was picking at crumbs as she stared out across the water. Once the sunset faded it got _very_ boring _very_ fast. She counted boat lights on the horizon until she ran out of boats and patience. She felt as antsy as the bugs nipping at her exposed legs.

She had waited, and waited more, and waited a little bit longer just in case. The sea was eerie calm and empty. When the first wisps of grey light began to rise over the water, she was officially, truly done.

The manor grounds almost entirely deserted so early. She pads through the empty pathways, feeling like a ghost. A _vengeful_ one, she thinks bitterly, clutching her canvas bag and salt-stained blanket. The single guard she sees is fast asleep, head lolling on his shoulder as he slumps against a lamp-post. Instinctively, her hand twitches toward the bottle of ink in her pocket, but she keeps walking. For once, she’s too upset for even a prank.

It takes unfamiliar effort to make it up the trellises to her room. Her muscles are limp with exhaustion, and her arms feel like jelly as she struggles to haul herself up through the window. She drops unceremoniously to the floor and feels the weight of the long night finally wash over her. She feels tired and she feels stupid and she kind of wants to hit something, maybe. Mostly she just wants to lie down.

“I know you’re here, you know,” she says after a moment. The room is empty but she’s become used to the weird tickle at the back of her neck when _someone_ is hanging around out of sight. She hauls herself to her feet, brushing the sand roughly from her skirts. She squares her shoulders, glowering into the darkness.

“I don’t think that was very funny, you know,” she continues. Once again, there’s no response. “If you don’t want to help me that is _fine_ but you do not need to be a dick about it.”

She can’t help the way her voice starts to shake slightly. She feels ridiculous, but she’s tired and frustrated and starting to wonder if she’s gone really, actually crazy. She’s out chasing mermaids and even her god is laughing at her for it.

A gust of wind from the open window catches her off guard. She sputters indignantly as her hair is whipped into her face. The smell of salt and sand is overwhelming. She shakes her head in annoyance.

“Oh, knock it off,” she huffs. “I am still mad at you!” Another small whirlwind sends the loose papers and pages fluttering around her room. “I’m serious, cut it out!”

The wind picks up, and it’s actually _loud_ now, rushing in her ears like she’s still standing next to the ocean. One of the books she’d left on her bed flips open, pages flapping like a deck of cards being shuffled. Jester covers her eyes with her hands against the tumult, and all it once it stops.

Jester peeks out hesitantly, heart hammering. Awe-inspiring displays of godly power are not usually the Traveler’s way. For a moment, she wonders if he’s really actually upset with her. But there’s no damage to speak of, just a few drawings tossed against the opposite wall. Her holy symbol pulses gently against her chest.

She sighs. “You are really the worst friend, sometimes,” she says, crossing to her bed. The book still lays open on her sheets. It’s one of the ancient ones she dug out from the back of her shelves, some kind of stuffy historical tome she could barely stand more than a few pages of. A yellowed, hand-drawn map of the the Menagerie Coast stares back up at her.

A smile spreads across her face, and she can’t help but giggle softly as she slams the book closed and flops backwards onto the mattress. “Okay,” she says, “I understand now, I think. But this does not mean you are completely off the hook.”

She thinks she hears faint laughter from somewhere beside her, but she’s fast asleep before she can tell for sure.

\---

Most of the traveling merchants who set up around the _Oyster and Pearl_ come early in the morning and left once it was too hot for anyone to pay attention to them. When Jester was little, she would watch the tiny pop-up market from her window with awe and envy, wishing that just once she could be allowed out to wander among the exotic foods and fabrics and baubles. But even now, when “allowed” only sometimes mattered, the crowd was almost never thin enough for her to slip through unnoticed.

So, it was lucky that she always had a backup.

The booksellers never showed up until everyone else had left. Nobody seemed to know much about them except the man’s soft Zemnian accept and his tiny friend who buried herself in an oversized cloak. Jester’s mother sometimes bought a book or two for her on special occasions. Molly thought the bookseller was kind of cute, which always made her roll her eyes.

He might not be _cute_ but Jester likes him. He’s soft-spoken and helpful, and sometimes friendly if you push him really, really hard. On slow days, he lets her curl up in the shade of his small cart and thumb through whatever incredibly trashy romance novels he’d picked up that week. Mostly, Jester likes that he has no idea who she is, nor any interest in finding out.

“Hello Caleb,” she sings, dropping her elbows down on the side of the cart. It felt strange, sometimes, knowing his name when she couldn’t tell him hers, but he never commented on it. There had been an awkward day or so when he had tried to insist on being _Mr. Widogast_ which, no, was just not happening.

“Hallo,” he replies without looking up, balancing a pile of books up to his chin as he struggles to fit them one-by-one into the already packed shelves. It’s an image she’s definitely going to draw later, she decides. “I don’t think we have anything that you haven’t read already, but if you would like to look them over anyway you are welcome.”

“Nope,” she says in reply, lazily popping the “P,” “I’m not here for smut today, Caleb.”

“Oh,” he says. He sets the books down awkwardly, brushing his hands off on his raggedy coat before hopping down to join her. “Ah, Nott is around the back if you wanted her-”

“Caleb,” she interrupts, dragging his name out several extra syllables, “I actually want to _buy_ a _book_.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes light up just a little. “Oh, _ja_ , alright,” he says. “What are you looking for?”

“I need maps.”

“Maps,” he echoes. He glances somewhat doubtfully at his stock. “Ah, any particular sort?”

“Like, maps of _here_ ,” she says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of “here.” “Um, the Menagerie Coast, I guess? But Nicodranas, mostly, if you can find any.”

He nods slowly. “Okay, _ja_ , I’ll see what we have.” He knocks lightly against the side of the cart, trying and failing to peer over the top. “Nott? Can you-”

“I _heard_ her!” comes the loud reply, and a moment later a small figure comes bustling around the corner with a stack of books almost as tall as she is. “Here,” she puffs, dropping them in an unceremonious heap, “Look through those, that’s about the closest things we have to any maps.” Her voice is somewhat muffled through the mask she’s never seen her without.

“Okay, I’ll take them,” Jester says, trying not to sound impatient but practically bouncing from foot to foot. She’s so _close_ now.

Caleb nearly does a double-take, glancing from Jester to the heap of tomes on the ground. “...All of them?” He gets out finally.

“Yeah, isn’t that okay?” She asks, already reaching for her pockets. And she freezes at once, because her hands find nothing. She doesn’t get her allowance until the end of the week. “Um,” she mumbles, frantically reaching up and unclipping the chain from her horn. She has no idea how much the bright little piece of jewelry is worth, but she has to imagine it’s more than a couple of books. “Can I give you this for it all?”

“Let me see,” Nott orders before Caleb can even open his mouth to reply. She grabs the trinket from Jester’s palm, holding it up to the light appreciatively. “Okay, deal, but just this once,” she says, cupping it protectively in her bandaged hands.

“You’re the best, Caleb,” she says, patting him lightly on the cheeks with a huge grin.

“Okay,” he sighs, bending to retrieve the books from the ground, but she can see the slight tinge of red around his ears.

She pours over them for hours in her room, all but completely oblivious to the noise and revelry downstairs. Most of them are terrible; stuffy and long-winded and nearly impossible to get through. When her eyelids start to droop she resorts to just skimming and hoping for the best. Mostly she just finds surface-level maps of the towns on the coasts or long, flowery descriptions of how the beach looks in the sunset or whatever.

She’s half asleep when she finds what she’s looking for. It’s hardly even a book, more just a journal with pictures. Some explorer who came to Nicodranas several decades ago looking for treasure or mystery or something like that. Jester’s not really paying attention to the exposition. But she’s all eyes on the intricate drawings. Not just of the familiar beaches of her hometown, but of the cliffs and rocky coves beyond.

She lifts her pen to the page, draws a circle around a cluster of small caves barely a mile from her own little stretch of coastline. A warm breeze blows in through her window, smelling like saltwater and sun. Now that she has somewhere to go, she feels the ocean calling to her like she’s a sailor at heart.

\---

She doesn’t bring much. Her map, several breakfast pastries wrapped in a sheet of cheesecloth, and her boat. And, of course, she’s certain the Traveler comes along too. It would be ridiculous to think her deity would not be with her when she is doing real, actual traveling for once.

The water is warm and calm as she pushes free of the dock and rows for the west. Her boat glides easily over the small waves. She makes her way along the coastline, watching as the busting port town fades out into rocky outcroppings and the occasional house. The beaches rise into sheer cliffs and then fall again to meet the water. She’s never been this far beyond the comfort of the dock lights, and she delights in the unfamiliar solitude.

Well, she delights in it for a while at least. After a point, the calm of the sea is more a monotony than anything. Her arms start to ache with every dip of the oars, and then they start to burn. The further she gets from home, the less this seems like an exciting adventure.

“Traveler?” She says into the salty air. “If you’re around, it would be nice to know if I am going the right way. This is a lot less fun than you made it seem.”

There’s no reply. Not even a faint pulse against her chest. With a soft growl, Jester strikes her oars into the water with fresh strength. The boat rocks and bounces its way over the waves, the cliffside speeding past her as she slams the oars down again and again -

Her boat strikes something hard. She yelps in surprise, losing her balance at the sudden loss of momentum and tumbling from her seat. The boat doesn’t stop, sailing over whatever it struck in an impressive display before crashing, sideways, back into the ocean.

Jester hauls herself from the water, gasping at the shock of cold. She scrambles onto the first flat piece of rock she finds, under an overhang of jagged stones. She pushes the wet hair from her eyes, spotting the mooring rope just in time to grab it before it floats out of reach. Arms shaking with effort, she hauls her overturned boat to the small cave. It bumps limply against the rocks, bobbing like a sad dead animal. One of the boards on its side is almost completely peeled away.

“Stupid,” she whispers, staring down at the mess in front of her. Her hands are shaking. “Stupid, _stupid_ idea. You never learn _anything_.”

There’s no way her boat will go anywhere like that. Can she fix it? She has no idea. She’d never needed to try before. Not in time, though. Not in time to be home before someone notices. The tremor in her hands moves up into her shoulders. It’s suddenly more than a little hard to breathe evenly.

“So stupid,” she whispers again, and then her vision blurs with tears.

At her chest, her holy symbol grows warm, melting away some of the chill from the water. She feels the faintest imprint of a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re not making me feel better,” she sniffs, but her tears are fading.

“Uh,” comes a reply in a voice she does _not_ expect.

She whirls around. The ghostly presence at her shoulder vanishes at once. Now all she feels is her heart pounding in her chest. Several feet away in the half-submerged cave, two yellow eyes stare back at her. Angular half-orc features, choppy haircut, blue-green skin dripping with saltwater.

For a moment she just stares, taking in all the details she hadn’t had a chance to see the night before. The shock of white in his otherwise dark hair, the puckered scar that runs down the lower half of his face, the rounded points of his ears. There are a few half-orcs in Nicodranas, but none who look quite like this. Certainly none who… she can’t help the way her eyes drift briefly to what she knows the water barely conceals.

She pushes herself to her feet finally, moving in a daze. A hundred words well up in her throat but she can’t get any of them out. She can still feel the remains of tears in the corners of her eyes, and she doesn’t know if she feels ashamed or angry. A soft breeze catches her as it whirls between the rocks.

“My name is Jester of Nicodranas,” she says, wind curling her hair around her face. “And - and -” the bubble of emotion in her chest rises and bursts, “- and you _broke_ my _boat!_ ”

The man - he looks only a little older than her, probably - glances between her and the overturned rowboat bobbing sadly behind her. “I’m… sorry?” He says finally. His accent is thick and not one she’s heard before.

“Well you should be,” she huffs. “I wouldn’t have had to come looking for you if you hadn’t chased me and then vanished all mysterious like.”

He looks at her with something like wonder, hesitantly wading closer. She tries very hard not to stare at the mass of strange shapes writhing just below the surface. She doesn’t do a very good job. “You’re… the woman in the boat,” he says, not really a question.

She rolls her eyes. “No, I am the _other_ little blue tiefling on the Menagerie Coast.” She taps the side of her face, where the dark purple mark is still visible on her jaw. “You fucked up my face, by the way, and I am still a _little_ bit mad about that.”

“The Menagerie Coast,” he echoes. He’s looking somewhere past her now.

“Yes, I said that,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can talk. Why didn’t you just talk to me? I don’t mind that you look like a scary monster, but you do not need to act like one.”

He looks back to her now, expression unreadable. “I… didn’t mean t’ frighten you,” he says eventually. “Yours was just, the first boat I’d seen, is all.”

The moment of silence that follows brings no clarification. “Like… ever?” She ventures.

“Uh, no, just,” he shrugs, “recently.”

“Oh,” She takes a few careful steps forward, feeling ridiculous standing so far back. “So you are not from around here, then?”

He hesitates a long moment, then shakes his head. “No.”

“Where are you from?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, looks up at her curiously. “You said your name was Jester?”

“Yes,” she says, straightening up as best she could in soaking wet clothing. “Jester Lavorre.”

He nods slightly. “My name is Fjord.”

“Fjord,” she repeats, rolling it off her tongue. She smiles a moment. “I like it. We are not strangers anymore, then.”

He almost meets her smile. “No, I suppose we’re not,” he says. He glances back at the mouth of the cave, troubled look falling back into place. “Can I - Do y’ mind if I take a look at your boat?”

“Huh? Oh, um, go ahead.”

Fjord wades carefully to where the rowboat still floats listlessly amount the rocks. He runs his hands carefully over the ruined planks, bending it back experimentally. “It’s not broken,” he says finally, not looking up. “You can push the board back in if you nail it right and it’ll hold until you get back at least. You’re gonna want something stronger after that. Probably paint it, too.”

She can’t help the surprised laugh that bubbles up from her chest. “Do you fix a lot of boats?”

“Used to work on one,” he says, with a brief glance back. There’s something close to satisfaction in his voice.

“Oh,” she says. She chews at her lip. “So were you not… _always_ like, um,” there’s no good way to finish the sentence.

“No,” he says, looking away again, “not always.”

She sits quietly for a minute, watching him carefully angle the broken piece of her boat back into place. Now that the shock of the moment has worn off, her mind is reeling as she struggles to take in the scene around her. She is talking to a _merman_ , something out of one of her strangest childhood stories. He is fixing her rowboat like it is nothing and she can see _tentacles_ moving just underneath the surface. She presses her lips into her knees and prays to the Traveler that she doesn’t say any of these things out loud.

“I think that’s good now,” he says finally, breaking the silence. He runs his hand absently across the boards, not really looking at her.

“Oh,” she says, startled from her trance. She tests the weight of the boat hesitantly. The inside is still soaked and she doesn’t like the way it creaks underfoot, but it’s holding her steady. “I - Thank you, Fjord,” she says, hoping he truly hears the sincerity. He ducks his head slightly in reply.

“S’ no problem.”

“You will still be here when I come back, yes?” She blurts out before she can stop herself.

He hesitates a moment, glancing back into the cave behind him. But he gives her a small nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be here.”

“Good,” she says, and dips her oars into the sea with newfound purpose.

\---

She visits him whenever she can.

It’s not as hard to get away, once she finds a rhythm. Her mother is always busiest in the summer anyway, when the heat makes everyone bored and restless, and curious tourists flock the coast to see if it lives up to all the stories and tavern shanties. As long as Jester makes herself conspicuous and innocent all morning, she can slip away in the afternoon without notice while everyone is busying around, getting ready for the evening guests.

She hasn’t felt this excited since the Traveler had first begun speaking to her and she thought she’d found a secret imaginary friend. And just like back then, this fairy tale turned out to be real.

Fjord isn’t a very big talker, but she finds she doesn’t mind doing enough talking for the both of them. She tells him about the _Oyster and Pearl_ , about the room where she lives, about her mother and the other performers she’s befriended over the years.

It’s funny to see how confused he gets sometimes. “So, do you live there all the time?” He asks once, while she’s in the middle of describing the view she has over the grand stageroom from her balcony.

“Well, yes,” she replies, kicking her toes lightly through the water beside him. She hesitates for a moment before leaning in conspiratorially. “ _Technically_ I am not supposed to leave, you know.”

He doesn’t nod along to her secret. He pulls back, looking somewhat perturbed. “You’re not supposed to leave… your house?” He asks slowly.

She frowns, feeling suddenly defensive. “Well, it’s only because my mom is worried about me. A lot of people don’t like it when the performers have kids. Like, _really_ don’t like it.” She flicks a pebble absently into the water, watching it sink until it disappears. “She just doesn’t want anything to happen to me.”

“I get it, but,” he pauses, scratching at the back of his neck. “Don’t you ever want to leave?”

“I _do_ leave,” she says, gesturing around her. “Nobody notices as long as I’m not gone too long.”

He shakes his head. “I mean _leave_ leave. Go see the world?”

“Well, sometimes, maybe.” She shrugs slightly. Her stomach very suddenly feels tight. She draws her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them lightly. “I would miss my mom, though. She’s the only family I have.”

He’s quiet for a long time after that. It’s not a very productive visit.

She tells him about the Traveler too, eventually. About how he’s watched over her since she was small, her secret friend and confidant. About how her magic came to her bit by bit and she realized she was destined to be his cleric.

“You’re a cleric,” he says, a note of surprise in his voice.

“Well, technically,” she says with a shrug. “I don’t usually have to heal anybody. Here, watch.” She places her hand on her symbol, focusing a moment. Her duplicate flickers into view beside her; identical pose, wearing an identical satisfied smile. She makes both her selves wave cheerfully at Fjord.

“Impressed?” She asks.

“Very.” He smiles faintly. For a moment, he’s quiet, staring at both Jesters’ reflections in the water. He looks up finally. “Let me show you something.”

“Sure,” Jester tries not to sound too excited as she vanishes her double with a wave of her hand.

Fjord holds out a hand, eyebrows creased in concentration. A faint green energy crackles at his fingertips, and then from behind the rocks a small mouse creeps into view. It scampers to Jester’s side, balancing on it’s small hind legs and blinking up at her. She reaches out carefully to touch it and her fingers phase harmlessly through. She gasps, whirling on him with eyes wide.

“You’re a magic user too?”

He shrugs, looking suddenly bashful. “I know a few spells,” he says.

“Where did you learn? Are you a cleric too? Did you go to an academy?” Questions spill unabated from her mouth. She knows he can’t answer them as fast as she asks but she can’t help herself. She’s never known anyone else before with the same connection to the arcane that she has.

“I-” he pauses, biting his lip where the long scar splits it. “I don’t know where it came from,” he says finally. “It was just sorta this _thing_ I could do one day.”

“Oh,” she says simply. She wasn’t expecting that answer. She’d always assumed magic was something you were born with, or maybe something that could be taught. That’s the way it always went in her books. It wasn’t something that just _happened_. Was it? He’s uncomfortably quiet now, not meeting her gaze.

“Did it happen before, or after?” She asks. At the confused look she gets in reply, she adds, “Before or after you, um,” she tries to mime tentacles in the most respectful way she can.

He looks at her for a long moment. “After,” he answers finally.

“Well,” she says, leaning forward with a determined grin. “I promise I am going to help you find out then, okay? Because we are friends now, and friends don’t have to do anything alone.”

She swears she sees the green of his cheeks go a little darker for a moment. “Yeah,” he says with a faint smile. “Alright, I believe you.”

\---

Avoiding the guards is the only thing that proves any sort of real problem. She was, maybe, wrong when she’d thought that none of them ever patrolled as far as her little dock. More than once she finds herself bolting to the safety of the treeline as someone shouts indistinctly in her direction. She thanks the Traveler that none of them ever seem to chase her any further than that, though she’s still on edge now. But she’s careful, she’s sneaky, and she doesn’t get caught.

Until one day she does.

"Hey! Hey, wait up!"

Jester hurries along faster at the sound, tying her boat up more than a little haphazardly and throwing her hood over her head. She springs off the dock and walks as fast as she can without breaking into a sprint, sand kicking up under her feet.

"Hey, come on! Slow down already, fuck!"

She's almost to the edge of the beach, and the safety of winding alleyways and market stalls, when a strong hand clamps her shoulder, yanking her back. She reaches frantically for her hood, trying to pull it back down over her horns, but it falls aside as she's wheeled around sharply to meet a red, panting face and brilliant blue eyes. And, Jester notes with a glance down, guard's uniform.

"I've been trying to catch you for the past three days," the guard huffs between breaths. "You're not allowed to be taking a boat that far past the docks unless you have permission, which I know you don't because you keep _running_ from me."

Jester thinks she's seen her before, just never so close up. She's tall and somewhat lanky, with warm brown skin and hair tied in a loose bun. She’s young, Jester notes again, before shaking herself back to focus.

"I, um," Jester's mind reels for a good excuse. She's supposed to be good at this, she's been lying since she was, like, _born_ but the dice refuse to fall in her favor this time. "I thought it was okay? Since I only have, um, a little boat."

The guard's face falls into an expression that Jester is very used to. Usually after a prank lands perfectly and then someone notices her giggling off to the side. "You 'thought it was okay', really? That's what you're going with?"

"Well, you won't believe me if I tell you the truth," Jester snaps. Her hood still lays uselessly against her back, and the longer this stranger is staring directly at her exposed face, curling horns, purple eyes, the more Jester is waiting to see the look of recognition cross her face. Not many people in town know her face but _everyone_ knows her mom, and it’s not a far stretch between the two of them.

The guard crosses her arms. “You understand why that doesn’t sound convincing, yeah?”

Jester’s shoulders slump. “I _know_ , I just -” She hesitates, biting her lip, and then shakes her head.

The guard sighs, looking less irritated now so much as exhausted. “Look, okay, you don’t look like a hardened criminal or whatever. Just come with me, I’m pretty sure my boss will just let you off with a warning if she’s not in a shitty mood again.”

“No!” Jester blurts out, digging her heels into the sand as the guard tries to gently tug her forward. The woman is strong but Jester is stronger, and for an awkward moment neither of them move. Then the guard sighs, backing off for a moment before reaching for the staff strapped to her back.

“Come on, man, I really don’t want to-”

“Wait,” Jester yelps, scrambling backwards. Against her chest, her holy symbol _burns_ and she barely knows what she’s doing before her hand is outstretched and tingling with the faint residue of magic.

The guard jumps back, blinks a few times, scrunches her nose in confusion. She looks like she’s just been slapped upside the head. She whirls back on Jester, arms up defensively. “What the fuck? What did you just do?”

“Truth spell!” Jester blurts out before she can stop herself. She snags the guard’s wrists in her hands before she can move back further. “Now you can ask me anything you want and I have to tell you! You don’t need to take me to anyone.”

The guard’s face furrows skeptically, but she’s not trying to pull away. “Is that really how it works?”

“Yes,” Jester lies.

“Oh, okay, uh, cool,” she said. She pulled back slightly, squaring her shoulders authoritatively. “What’s your name, then?”

“Jess Fancypants,” she says quickly. Seeing the guard’s squint of doubt, she continues quickly, “What’s _your_ name? I’ve never seen you around before.”

She frowns, standing up straighter. “Beauregard Lionett, Crownsguard of the Empire. And I’m new-ish here, thanks for asking.” She blinks, then winces slightly, like she wishes she’d said less. “I’m not any less in charge, though.”

“Oh no, of course not,” she replies demurely, even as she feels like giggling in relief. Beauregard might still look like she’s ready to take a swing at Jester if she needs to, but she’s clearly not about to drag her back to her mother.

Beau looks almost pleased for a moment, before shaking her head. “Alright, don’t change the subject,” she says. “You never told me what you’ve been doing out well past where you’re supposed to be.”

“Do you _promise_ you will believe me if I tell you?”

Beau huffs impatiently. “Yes, gods, just spill it already. What, are you out burying bodies or something?”

Jester looks her firmly in the eyes, trying to drop her voice to the most serious it could get. “I am looking for mermaids.”

“Okay,” Beau says after a moment.“Cool, alright. I don’t know why I thought you weren’t wasting my time, but -”

“I’m not!” She protests, a little to loudly. She lowers her voice, glaring up at the guard. “You promised you’d believe me, Beauregard. Do I look like I am not being serious?”

“I-” she hesitates, seeming to finally remember the spell she’s under. “I think _you_ think you’re being serious,” she admits finally.

“Yes,” Jester says, grasping her hands tightly. “I am being _so_ serious, and I need you to trust me.”

“Why should I?” Beau replies, the suspicious glower back on her face. She tries to tug her hands free but Jester just tightens her grip.

“Because - because -” Jester’s mind roils with frustration. She lifts one of Beau’s hands up to her face, hooking her own finger forcibly into her’s. “Because I _promise_ , so there!” She snaps.

Beau stares blankly at their linked hands for a moment. Then she laughs; a rough, warm sound that drains what feels like a hundred pounds of tension from Jester’s muscles. “Gods, you know what?” She says finally, shaking her head. “I don’t get paid _nearly_ fucking enough at this job anyway. Yeah, okay, fuck it. If you want to go out looking for mermaids or unicorns or whatever, it’s not my job to stop you. If Dairon has a problem with it she can come arrest you herself.”

“Beauregard you are the _best_ ,” Jester says earnestly. A faint red flush creeps into the guard’s cheeks for a half second. Jester unhooks their fingers, pausing for a moment to grab Beau by the shoulder. “This means we’re friends now, okay? No take-backs.”

“Uh,” Beau starts, but Jester is already off across the beach before she can hear the rest.

Yes, her life is _much_ more exciting now.

\---

"Got any nines?"

"Go fish," Jester murmurs without looking up from the window.

"I can see your cards, Jes. You have two of them."

"Huh? Oh," Jester plucks them free and tosses them in Molly's direction before gluing her eyes back to the sky. All day thick clouds had been drifting in from the sea, but now they were turning black and angry, and Jester couldn't stop watching with a mix of fascination and worry.

"Wildemount to Jester?" Molly's fingers snap in front of her face, bringing her back with a start. He sits cross-legged on her floor, dressed in the same gaudy robe he always wears on his days off. Getting to spend time with him, tiefling to tiefling, is rare and fun and she feels bad that he picked the one day that she has someone else on her mind.

"I'm sorry, Molly," she sighs, throwing her cards down in a heap.

“It’s alright,” he says, looking more confused than upset. He tosses his cards in to join hers, leaning back comfortably on the heels of his hands. “What’s got you so bothered, if I can ask?”

“Um,” she hesitates, searching for a way to explain without explaining. She’s been doing a lot of that lately, it seems. “Oh, just looking at the clouds.”

Molly’s eyes follow hers. “Did you hear, then? Supposed to be a crazy storm tonight. Everyone’s been tying their boats up all morning. I haven’t seen the docks so busy since that circus came to town last year.”

Jester’s teeth pull at her lip. “Is it going to be like… _bad_ bad?”

“If you’re not a fish, then probably not,” Molly shrugs. “Why, are you worried?”

“Pfft, no,” Jester says, not very convincingly. Molly frowns.

“We’re too far inland to flood, you know,” he says.

“I _said_ I wasn’t worried,” she huffs, knocking him lightly on the shoulder. He laughs, sweeping the cards back up into his hand with an obnoxious flourish and getting to his feet.

“Alright, well, I’ll leave you to be not worried in peace,” he says with a stretch. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, sure,” she says, barely hearing the door close behind him. Outside her window, the sky is getting darker, the wind bending branches back against the trees. In the distance, the ocean is a rolling dark expanse.

“Well, I guess we are staying inside tonight,” she says to the empty room. As if on cue, rain starts up a steady patter against her roof.

\---

For not the first time in her life, Jester loathes how small her room feels as she paces from the bookshelf to the bed to back again. When she was little, she read a story once about a man who paced back and forth endlessly until he had worn his own grave into the ground, and she idly thinks that she might do the same before the night ends. The wind slams sheets of rain into her window.

“Stop worrying,” she order herself, not for the first time tonight. She doesn’t listen.

She shouldn’t be so on edge in the first place. Storm aren’t uncommon on the coast. Usually, the rain has always been a comfort to her, a lullaby when her mom was not around to sing her one. Everyone who lived by the sea knew how to ride out rough weather. Definitely someone who lived _in_ the sea would know how to do it, too.

Definitely.

She thrusts open the window, wincing immediately as a spray of rain hit her face. The familiar warm skyline she knows so well is almost unrecognizable in the grey haze. From somewhere far out over the ocean, thunder rumbles.

“Okay,” she whispers. Water streams down the trellises, pooling dark and muddy in the garden below. She swings a leg over, toes hesitantly at a foothold. It holds alright. Taking a breath, she wiggles the rest of the way out into the storm.

Instantly, the wind grabs at her skirts, yanking at her so viciously that her fingers almost slip from the woodwork. She digs her claws in, screwing her eyes shut against the biting sting of the rain and kicking out blindly for her footing. She inches herself down bit by bit, water soaking cold and heavy into her clothes.

A bolt of lighting rips the sky in half with an ear-splitting crack. Jester’s vision whites out as the ground shakes under her. Her nails skitter free from their hold and she plunges backwards, arms wheeling. She grabs frantically in front of her, vision still gone, feels her fingers hook somewhere into the lattice. The next thing she hears is a splintering crack before she hits the ground in a spray of mud and leaves.

She hauls herself to her knees, panting and spitting wet hair from her mouth. She stares up at the mass of broken wood hanging in pieces from the side of her house. Well. She’s not getting back up that way.

Thunder snarls overhead. She kicks herself to her feet, wipes the rain from her eyes, and bolts.

Her boots sink wetly into the sand as she half runs, half slides down the beach to the water. The wind is throwing her hair into her eyes and she’s relying on memory more than sight to get her to the right dock. Overhead, thunder growls at her, sounding much closer than it had in her room. She runs faster.

Her tiny boat rolls and slams against the dock, the waves pulling at it like two dogs fighting over a bone. She wants to apologize to it. She settles for quietly promising a new coat of paint once this is over, making her way out across the dock.

The first wave nearly takes her off her feet, cold saltwater slapping against her legs, soaking through her boots instantly. Jester staggers, catches herself on on a post. She presses her hand to her holy symbol and babbles a quick prayer that even she barely hears over the roar of the water.

She’s wading nearly two feet deep by the time she reaches the end of the dock where her boat flounders pitifully. Bracing her feet as best she can on the wet planks, she works away at the knot. The wet rope is uncooperative in her fingers and she wants to yell in frustration before it finally comes free in a sodden mess.

Her untethered boat makes a frantic break for the shore, yanking her off her feet. She slams against the tethering post, feeling something in her shoulder wrench. Her vision goes black for a moment, and when she comes to she’s plunging headfirst into the sea.

The waves submerge her instantly, wind-swept current slamming her head beneath the surface before she can even see which direction she’s being pulled. The mooring rope slips from her grasp, and at once she’s tossed loose like a piece of debris. She grabs desperately out in front of her, feeling sand and then empty water and then, finally, the slippery wood of one of the dock posts. She grips it fiercely, holding on with terrifying strength as a hundred tons of water slam over her.

She can’t move. She has just enough strength to hold on, not enough to pull her head above water. Her lungs burn desperately, and she can feel the string of the saltwater she’s already swallowed.

_Let go_ , a voice in her head whispers, clear despite the roar of everything around her. _Let go. The water knows what it wants from you_.

She can’t even feel where her arms are holding on anymore. She closes her eyes, wonders if the Traveler can see her underwater. She lets go.

\--XXXXX--

_“Did it hurt?” asks Jester quietly. The low blue light of the cave sends water-shadows rippling on the walls._

_Fjord is silent from his position barely above the water line. His tentacles curl in the flow of the pools and sway, back and forth._

_“Yes,” he finally answers. “I don’t remember much of the storm, but I remember the ship cracking, the water… it burns when it goes down.” He raises himself up somewhat and Jester watches as excess liquid runs out of his gills. “It was dark, though. We were in a reef, north from here. I just remember everything glowing green, these huge--” he gestures downward to his own tentacles, “and this eye….”_

_Jester reaches out to submerge her hands in the pool. “Were you scared?”_

_“Yeah,” says Fjord. He looks conflicted, distant. “That hasn’t gone away.” He stops suddenly and levels his gaze at her. The water reflects across their faces._

_“Jes, I’m just happy I got someone to talk to again.”_

\--XXXXX--

A strong hand closes around the back of her neck, nails digging into her clothes and flesh as she’s hauled from the water like a drowned cat. She gasps as her head breaks the surface, water streaming from her mouth as she tries to convince her lungs that they’re still there. The world around her is a whirl of grey and black.

It takes her a moment to register that she’s being cradled now, not dragged by the scruff. She feels rough fabric against her cheek and strong arms under her back. Someone’s breathing raggedly above her, and all she can see are two glowing eyes.

“Are you an angel?” She thinks she manages to say. Everything still sounds underwater, swallowed up by the scream of the wind.

“Not quite.”

A bolt of lightning illuminates the silhouette of broad shoulders and wild hair. Two black wings stretch up towards the sky, haloed in the brief flash of light. It would make a pretty great drawing, Jester thinks, before the sky and everything else goes dark.

\--XXXXX--

Jester wakes up to bickering.

“We can’t just keep her here! The _Ruby of the Sea_ will be looking for her, if she finds out we’ve _kidnapped-”_

“I found her drowning off the dock, she left on her own.” Says the soft voice from earlier. Jester cracks open an eye. The dark skinned woman - Beauregard, she remembers - has her back to her, arms crossed. Her hair is loose from its tie and wet. Just at the edge of Jester’s vision stands an even taller, more muscular figure. No longer outlined by storm and lightning, she somehow manages to be just as intimidating. She has black hair that goes white at the tips and dark makeup that only seems a little smudged despite the storm Jester can still hear outside.

“But you brought her back here.” Beauregard stomps her foot. The other woman sighs, eyes meeting Jester’s.

“She was unconscious.” She brushes past and crouches next to Jester. She’s on a bed, she can feel her ruined dress soaking the sheets, and she pushes herself up a little before her head swims with pain and she drops back down.

“Easy, you got knocked around pretty bad.” The pale woman puts a hand against Jester’s forehead.

“What were you thinking?” Beau sits gently on the edge of the bed, and though her voice is harsh there’s a twinge of actual worry under it.

“I was worried about a friend.” Jester manages. Her throat feels raw from swallowing salt water. Beau looks like she’s about to say something but bites her tongue when the other woman holds up a hand.

“I’m sure your friend will be okay, but you nearly drowned out there.” Jester coughs involuntarily, as if to prove her point. Her whole mouth tastes like salt and fish.

“Thank you for saving me.” She stares at the storm out the window. She’s in some small bedroom, a door off to the side ajar to a living room.

“You fell out a window, so I followed.” The woman pauses, “Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle?” She gestures to the hem of Jester’s dress. It’s torn in a few places and soaked through. Jester notes a heavy pain in her left foot, now that she’s thinking about it, and shuffles so she’s sitting against the pillows and can lift her dress more.

“I’m Yasha, and Beau says you’ve already met?” Yasha scoots around Beau and gently tugs Jester’s sock down. Someone had already removed her boots. Jester hisses in pain and nodds.

“I didn’t realise you were _related_ to the Ruby of the Sea, or I wouldn’t have given you so much trouble.” Beau gives a strained smile.

“I’m not really supposed to be out, I’m sorry I cast a spell on you.” Jester winces as Yasha pokes at her swollen ankle. Beau shrugs.

“No offence to her, but if you are resorting to sneaking out your window in the middle of a storm, I take it you don’t get out much. That’s not fair, if you ask me.” Jester fiddles with her holy symbol, glad that it stayed on even with her dip in the ocean. Yasha leans up from her examination of Jester’s ankle.

“Do you mind if I heal this?” She asks. Jester sits up a little straighter.

“Oh! Are you a cleric? Who’s your god?” She leans forward and Yasha shakes her head a little.

“I just have a little power.” She skirts around the question, but gestures at Jester’s ankle again. Jester nods and she touches it lightly, a whitish light flashing from her fingers before the pain subsides. Jester sits back with a sigh.

“Thank you.” Jester worries her lip between her teeth. “I need to get back, but I think the trellis is really broken.”

“You should rest here until the storm is gone at least.” Beau says, patting Jester’s hand that isn’t wrapped around her symbol. “Yasha, could you make some tea?” Beau looks over at her shoulder at the other woman, now standing a bit awkwardly at the foot of the bed. Yasha nods and leaves the room.

Jester takes a moment to fully take in her surroundings. There’s a coat hanger with a blue cloak on it, a few books, a long quarterstaff propped up in the corner, and a pair of goggles on the bedside table. Jester picks them up with interest.

“Those let me see in the dark.” Beau says with a grin. She takes them and snaps them on. Jester can’t help but giggle.

“You look like a dork!” Beau scowls and pushes them up on her head.

“It’s true!” Yasha shouts from the other room. Beau blushes at that.

“Ohhh you like her.” Jester keeps her tone quiet, and Beau turns even darker red and silently takes the goggles off.

“She’s alright.” Beau mutters. Yasha soon comes in with a plate of tea and some biscuits, as well as a nightgown. She sets the tea on Jester’s lap and the clothes at the foot of the bed.  

“We’ll let you sleep, call if you need anything, okay?” Beau stands as Jester nods, mouth full of cookie. They leave, and Jester overhears snippets of conversation as the door closes.

“I’ll get the sheets for the couch,” Beau says.

“My bed is big enough, your back won’t appreciate that.” Beau makes a sputtering noise and their footsteps fade down the hall. Jester rubs her temples.

“Traveler, I might be in very big trouble.” She sighs and finishes the tea, putting the tray on the ground beside the bed. There’s a slight, almost apologetic warmth under her fingers. She squeezes the metal.

Getting out of her dress is a challenge, and she knows the salt will stain it badly, but she wrings it out as best she can and puts on the dry gown before crawling under the blankets. The sound of rain and occasional roll of thunder lull her to sleep eventually, though her worried thoughts keep drifting and catching at the image of the rolling waves at the mouth of Fjord’s cave.

\---

Morning comes with the end of the storm. Jester awakens to the smell of bacon, and shuffles out of Beau’s room to see both women seated around a small table next to a kitchen. Their house is very small, the living room, dining room, and kitchen all sort of jumbled together. It’s fairly neat though, and there’s flowers potted in each window. Beau jumps up as soon as Jester emerges.

“We let you sleep in, but saved you food!” She rushes over to a plate of breakfast on the counter and sets it in front of an empty chair. Jester sits nervously.

“Thank you very much for taking me in.” She fiddles with the food.

“Of course.” Yasha gives her a hint of a smile.

“I can disguise myself and get back in without anyone noticing, but I _really_ need to check on my friend.”

“Where are they? We have today off, we could run a message?” Beau sips her drink and glances at Yasha.

“He, uh,” Jester searches for words. She hasn’t told anyone but the Traveler about Fjord, not even Molly. It feels like her secret, and she has a selfish desire to keep him to herself. She almost feels like she has to protect him. But worry wins out. “He lives in a cave, uh, due northwest of the dock where I was.” She shovels some eggs into her mouth to keep her eyes busy.

“A cave...?” Beau repeats. Jester sees Yasha touch her shoulder out of the corner of her eye.

“We’ll go check on him. What’s his name?” Her voice is soft and earnest, and it calms Jester a bit. She knows Fjord startles easily, but if Yasha talks to him like that she thinks he might come out. If he’s okay, that is.

“Fjord. He’s a little different, but please tell him I’m going to come back just as soon as I can.” She meets their eyes. Yasha and Beau nod in unison.

“We will. Do you need to be walked back?” Beau takes Jester’s now empty plate and puts it in a sink with some other dishes.

“If I made myself look like crownsguard too, I can ask to see my friend Molly, and he’ll sneak me back to my room.” Jester steels herself for the talking-to he’ll give her, but it’s worth it if she can get back before her mother knows she’s gone.

“You know Mollymauk?” Yasha perks up.

“Oh yes, he’s a good friend, how do you know him?”

“We used to travel together.” Yasha thinks for a moment. “I can send him a message, and he can pick you up here, if you’d like?” Jester claps her hands at that.

“That would save a lot of lying.” Jester nods.

“I’ll go to the docks and get us a boat, while you do that?” Beau asks Yasha. Jester’s heart sinks.

“My boat...” She looks to Yasha.

“Oh, yeah. It drifted away, I could only grab you.” Yasha looks genuinely sorry, but that doesn’t help the cold strain in Jester’s chest.

“That’s okay,” Jester grits her teeth and tries to smile. “I’ll get another one.” _Right Traveler?_ She sends out a silent prayer. There’s no response, but Jester lets out a shaky breath and stands. “Can I borrow some clothes?” She doesn’t quite know if either of the women’s wardrobes will fit her, she’s wider and shorter than Beau and Yasha towers over her.

“I think I have something that might work for you.” Beau says, heading back to her room.

“I will go find Molly.” Yasha smiles and goes to put on a thick shrug that’s slung over a hook by the front door.

Beau is digging through a closet when Jester follows her, and emerges victorious with a fancy light pink tunic and loose black pants, and a half-cape. She lays them out on the bed for Jester.

“It’s not as nice as the dress, but I never wear them, so you don’t have to worry about bringing it back. Beau fiddles with the embroidery on the cape.

“Thank you, Beau.” Jester wraps Beau in a hug. The woman stiffens for a moment, then relaxes a bit and pats Jester’s back. Jester pulls away (careful not to catch Beau with her horns), and picks up her still slightly wet dress. “This is probably trash.” She sighs and shakes it out a little. It hadn’t been her favorite, at least. Beau pokes at it before taking it from her hands.

“I’ll take care of it. You can read anything you want, I’m sure Yasha will be back soon. I’ll see what I can do about getting a boat that we can leave at your dock, okay. And this friend of yours,” Beau finishes folding the dress and meet’s Jester’s eyes. “You said you were looking for mermaids.”

“He’s not a mermaid, per se...” Jester chews her lip. “You’ll see, I guess. Just don’t be freaked out, please? He’s harmless and very kind.” Jester hugs herself.

“I won’t, and Yasha’s chill with everything. She and Molly were in a circus.” Beau says. “There was a guy there who turned out to be like, a fiend or something.” Beau wrinkles her nose. “He killed a bunch of people and the whole thing kind of disbanded, but at least...” Beau shrugs. “You know, she ended up here. That’s nice. I’ll let you change, be careful out there, okay?” Beau smiles, genuine though it seems unpracticed, and leaves the room.

Jester sighs and changes, adjusts her necklace and mourns the jewelry she’d had on her horns, and sits on the floor to look through Beau’s books. She has some of the same romance novels as Jester, though they look nearly brand new, and a few adventure series. Jester picks one at random and curls up on the bed to read.

\---

Beau flashes her badge at the boathouse and is shown to a boat, barely room for two but made of sturdy looking wood. She taps her foot and waits for Yasha, worries about the little blue tiefling sitting alone in her house.

Yasha had a habit of taking in strays. Molly had stayed with them at first, when Beau and Yasha had just been co-workers cohabiting to save money, before they were...whatever this was. Friends? She was pretty sure she could at least call them that. So what if something as small as Yasha puttering around taking care of the plants or praying or lounging on the couch reading her little book made Beau’s heart jump. And Yasha’s smile - gods, Beau tripped over herself to tell jokes and flirt and show off just to see that smile.

Molly hadn’t been a quiet housemate, and Beau was happy to see him move on. They’d taken in a cat at one point, Yasha had found him on the streets, but it turned out he was the pet of a book merchant and there was a whole awkward exchange that ended in an agreement that they could stop by his shop and play with Frumpkin any time there weren’t customers.

Beau’s lost in thought by the time said woman’s hand claps down on her shoulder. She nearly falls off the dock.

“Easy, it’s just me.” Yasha gives Beau a nod and steps smoothly into the boat. It wobbles a bit, and Beau bites back her racing heart and a sinking trepidation and steps into the boat as well. The wood gives a little under her and she sits with some difficulty, maneuvering her legs so her knees are off to the side of Yasha’s.

“I think Jester is pulling our legs with this whole mermaid thing.” Beau lets a hand fall into the water as Yasha takes up the oars and shoves them away from the dock. The aasimar sets a rhythm and shrugs.

“She was very worried about someone, I’d hate to leave some guy stranded out there.” Yasha points them in the right direction, the boat skimming through the fairly calm water, now that the storm had passed.

“Right.” Beau smiles stiffly, doing her best not to get lost again staring at Yasha’s arms. The oars rise and slap the water, and Beau lets the sound drift through her brain until suddenly a shadow comes over them, and they’re rowing into the mouth of a cave.

The caves were nestled into one of the large broken cliffsides, far out in the bay. Remnants of where the coast had once stood, lost to erosion and weather. There’s a steady dripping sound, and the lap of water against the rock. Yasha slows the boat, poking the walls with an oar to change their momentum. Beau clears her throat.

“Uh, Fjord? Jester sent us?” She calls out to the darkness. Yasha looks around with less difficulty, rowing them a little further into the rock. Beau blindly finds the goggles in her pack and puts them on. The cave narrowed to a small beach, a few jagged rocks between them and the back of it. There were more rocks on the sand, and large piles of driftwood. Yasha pushes off the rocks towards the small shore.

“We’re friends, she’s worried about you- after the storm.” Their boat bumps up against sand, and Yasha set the oars in their slots.

“Fjord?” She calls out softly, the same voice she uses with Jester or when Frumpkin poofs.

There is a splashing sound somewhere in the darkness. Beau whips around towards it, seeing only a pile of driftwood and shadows. She cautiously steps out of the boat, wet sand shifting under her boots. Yasha steps out as well, crouching by the water’s edge.

“‘S’ Jes with you?” The voice is small, accented, and Beau immediately knew in pain. Yasha holds a hand out to her and follows it, shifting a large log to reveal a man, half in the water. Where his legs would be, a limp tangle of _tentacles_ twitches in the sand. Beau stifles a gasp. 

“She couldn’t come, are you injured?” Yasha is ever unphased. She kneels in the sand next to Fjord but didn’t try to touch him yet. The man- he looks to be a half-orc, now that Beau is shuffling closer- groans and rolls onto his back. His arm is clutching his stomach, and he has a nasty gash on his head.

“I’m a little worse for wear, yeah. Hell of a storm.” Fjord lifts his hand from his stomach, looking at the sticky blood with mild interest. Yasha hums and touches his shoulder.  A pulse of holy energy lights up the cavern for a moment, and Fjord whistles, sitting up a little immediately.

“That’s nifty. Jester said she could heal people too. Do you also worship the Traveler?” Fjord pokes at the now only slightly bleeding wound under his clinging shirt. Yasha shakes her head.

“The Stormlord, and it’s best to be hush about non-approved deities. Out here is fine, but you know,” Yasha gestures back in the direction of Nicodranas. Fjord chuckles.

“‘M’ not exactly about to go walking around town.” He flicks the sand around him with his tentacles. Yasha flushes and shakes her head again.

“Do you need anything here? Food?” Beau jumps back to their boat and grabs her bag, pulling some dried meat out and coming to crouch next to Yasha.

“Jester wasn’t kidding, here.” She offers it to Fjord.

“I feed myself pretty well, but thank you.” Fjord takes it and chews for a moment. “I uh, wasn’t really expecting visitors. Thank you I mean, lying there bleeding wasn’t uh, great. But will you tell more people about me? Jester kinda said she would keep me a secret.” Fjord looks worried, tentacles drawing up around his waist in a tangle. He’s sitting up now though, and finishes off the food.

“Don’t worry, no one else knows. Jester only told us because she was worried.” Beau tries to smile nicely.

“You look like you’re in pain.” Fjord says. It wasn’t mean-spirited, and he pokes at the sides of his own lips, mimicking her expression. “Like this.” He softens his smile. Beau does her best to copy, sparing a glance at Yasha, who’s looking between them with lips twitching upwards. Beau smiles. “There ya go!” Fjord gives her a pat on the shoulder.

“We should get back, but we will make sure Jester knows you are okay, and I’m sure she will visit again as soon as she’s able.” Yasha stands, slipping a little in the sand.

“Is she in trouble?” Fjord’s eyebrows furrow.

“She snuck out and got hurt in the storm as well. She might be stuck in her room for a few days.”

“Oh. I... well tell her I’m okay, and to take her time.” Fjord looks worried, and a little disappointed too. Yasha nods, then pushes the boat back into the water. Beau hops in, stomach churning a little as the wood bobs, and then more as Yasha settles across from her, knees around her own.

“It was nice meeting you, stay safe!” Beau calls as they row away. Fjord waves, pushing himself down the sand and disappearing into the water. A ripple follows them out of the cave, then fades as they hit open ocean. Yasha lets out a deep breath.

“I’ve seen some strange stuff, in the circus, but that takes it.” She tilts their boat back towards the outline of shore.

“He’s nice though.” Beau smiles. The sun is starting to dip, painting the clouds pink behind Yasha. Beau shifts, trying and failing to find something else to look at besides the content smile on the woman’s face.

\---

Molly comes to collect Jester after an hour, knocking three times on the door before barging his way in. He sweeps her up in a hug as soon as she came out to greet him.

“Oh dear, you’ve scared me half to death. Your mom knows you’re gone, but no one’s sent a search party yet.” Molly fixes her hair a little.

“It was stupid, running out like that, I’m sorry.” Jester muffles her voice in his coat.

“You can tell me why later, let’s get you home.” Molly takes her hand, and Jester thinks for a second before waving her hand and changing her form to a taller half-elf with flowing black hair. She lets Molly lead her back to the front gates, which open for him with just a nod to the guards. No one spares her much more than a glance.

There was a lunch party going on in the main room. Long tables set with food, and Jester’s mom at the head of it, laughing over a cup of wine. Jester feels something twist in her- anger? She knows her mom loves her, but some part of her wanted to see signs that she was missed. Instead the Ruby Of The Sea waves a hand for more drink and flicks her tail at the man next to her. Jester clings to Molly as they turn down the hall to her room.

The window had been left open, papers scattered across her floor and bed. Some of them were rain soaked, and Jester collects the ruined notes and drawings with a sigh. Molly leans against the doorway, arms crossed.

“Yasha said you went out looking for someone, so spill.” He closes her door and sits backwards on her desk chair. Jester plops down on her bed and crosses her legs.

“I have a friend, his name’s Fjord and he was out there in the storm all alone, and I was worried he’d get hurt.” She shuffles the papers in her hands. One is of Fjord, tentacles curled around a rock with the waves splashing up behind him. Jester smoothes it out, frowning at the running ink, and lays it aside from the rest.

“Is he a...sailor? You were down by the docks, right?”

“He’s...something like that. He lives out in a cave. In one of the cliff sides.” Jester’s tail slashes nervously.

“The water out there would get rough, but I’m sure he could handle it, if that’s what he’s used to. If he needs a place to stay, I have an extra room?” Molly lives in a little cottage further inland, Jester hasn’t had the chance to ever visit it.

“I don’t know that he...could do that. He’s not really big on land.” Jester crumples the rest of her ruined papers and chucks the ball expertly into her waste bin. Molly sighs.

“Well, I’ll check in on you later, just please don’t do anything too risky. And when you see him next, tell him the offer stands. It’s not safe out there, there will be more storms.” Molly stands and ruffles her hair before leaving. Jester flops back on the bed.

“Traveler, please please make sure Fjord is okay, and maybe I can find a way to turn him full half-orc again? And he can come on land and live with Molly and I can visit and-” Jester cuts herself off. She likes Fjord, a lot, but saying aloud that she wants to cuddle him, and wants him to steal her away and sail to some far off island where she would be free to do whatever she wanted, all things she’d dreamed off, saying that aloud would be a bit too real. She isn’t allowed to have things like that. She has her room and her drawing and her books and the Traveler. That’s all she needs...

Jester groans and curls up in her bed, staring out her window and across the water. She can see the speck that might be Fjord’s rock, but it was too far off and any boats would be just glimmers, hidden amongst the caps of waves and reflections of sunlight. Jester closes her eyes tight and waits for sleep to come.

\--XXXXX--

Sleep comes, but not quickly or well. Tossing and turning as though she were still on her tiny boat, the water rages around her in a swirling gray mass, the wind whipping her hair, the sails, the ocean spray, into a frenzied mess until she can’t see through it. Her yells and prayers to the Traveler go unheard as the rush quickly swallows the sound like a midnight snack. The boat capsizes, all is cool, enveloping darkness.

The slam of her windows bursting open with the gusting winds wakes her roughly and rapidly. The cool air floods in, making her shiver until she realizes that the thick layer of blankets she usually nests under now rest down around her ankles. She reaches down to grab the covers, pulling them up until her body is hidden under them, head burrowed in the pillow half of her bed deep as she can go. She should close the window. She knows that, but the bed is so warm, and she still feels so weird and tired. The bad mood of coming home to an unaffected household yesterday has carried over into today, and Jester feels justified in indulging in a few more minutes of sulking and dozing.

She’s just beginning to drift off again when a particularly strong gust rustles the curtains with a fluttering slap, knocking over a jar of pens on her desk in the process.

Throwing the blanket off with a huff, she grumbles, muttering darkly to herself. “Fine, fine. I’ll get up.” The air is still cool, and stomping out of bed, she shuts the window with a loud thud. The water outside was still rough, even as the worst of the storm had passed. Grey waves crashed over each other, choppy little leaps, cut short by the strong winds coming off from the north. “There is no need to throw a fit you know.” She says, seemingly to no one.

There isn’t any audible answer, but Jester knows she has been heard as a bit of warmth fills her chest, taking the edge off the cool that remained. An apology. Still grumbling, but with a slight smile, she says, “It is okay. I forgive you.” She touches a hand to her chest where her symbol still hangs, unaffected by the storm that had nearly consumed her just barely two days ago. A quick survey of the room reveals a pile of pens scattered around the edges of her desk alongside the crinkled and smeared notes and drawings she had reorganized into haphazard piles the night before. She leans down to pick them up, and in the process realizes that she was still wearing the clothes Beau had let her borrow.

Perhaps that was part of her problem.

Leaving the pens behind, Jester goes to her wardrobe, throwing open the doors with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. The rows and rows of colorful dresses, sashes, and stockings look and smell like comfort, and Jester breathes it in as deeply as she can. It was not that she isn’t grateful for Beau’s offering. She is, it was just that Jester preferred the feeling of skirts and dresses, open and breathy as they were, to the tighter constriction of pants.

Scanning through the items, she debates colors and textures, eventually deciding on a simple long-sleeved dress in a bright yellow. The shade was appalling, but she loved it with all her being because of it. She lays it out on the bed while continuing to browse for the rest of her outfit. While doing so her thoughts begin to drift towards Fjord.

She’s worried. No word has arrived from Beau and Yasha, while the rational part of her brain understands that not much time had passed and patience was key. He’s half a creature of the sea for the gods’ sake. Still a less reasonable part of her worries something terrible had happened and people were just trying to spare her feelings as if she were a particularly naïve child.

Beginning to undress, her mind continues to drift further into more uncharted territory, like the way Fjord’s hair always looks just so, even when he has been submerged under the water. How his scars make him seem rugged and handsome. The way her eye is drawn from his eyes, down his face, his neck, lower until- she blushes. The white hot anxiety she felt just moments before begins to pool into a lower buzzing warmth. Perhaps it’s inappropriate to think on it, but Jester is only a regular girl after all.

A knock at the door startles her out of her daydream, nearly toppling her over onto the floor, and throws her back into some of the vestiges of her foul mood. She sighs, still feeling the last dregs of grumpiness weighing in on her heart.

“Go away Molly,” She calls out, loud enough to be heard through the door.

When a soft, familiar, female voice replies instead, Jester freezes.

Her mother comes calling often enough that her appearance in the morning wasn’t unusual, but still halfway dressed in clothes that weren’t hers and looked nothing like what she would normally wear, she was floundering.

Desperately grasping at straws to distract and delay, she shouts this time, “Um- Hold on one moment! I am very- um –very naked!” She dashes to her wardrobe again, pulling out the first pair of stockings she can find without any mind to color. Quickly disrobing from the pants to pull the stockings on, she then tosses the offending item under the bed, tucking the little bit of leg that stuck out in with her foot. With a quick brushing of her hair and a sniff of her pits to make sure she doesn’t smell too awful, she opens the door with a wide smile plastered across her face.

“Good morning Mama!” She says with manufactured cheer, so unbearably fake sounding even she can hear it. Jester’s mother’s face falls just slightly.

“Good morning, darling. I heard you walking about and thought we could enjoy breakfast together.” Sure enough, Jester’s mother held out a small tray, just large enough for a little teapot and two large scones with strawberry jam on the side.

Jester’s face softens into something much more honest looking. Opening the door wider, she says, “I would love that Mama.” She smiles again, this time smaller, but more like herself. Her mother visibly relaxes as she places the tray on the little table by Jester’s bed, choosing to sit on the desk chair rather than the bed where Jester now sits.

The first few moments pass in pleasant, if slightly tense silence as tea is poured and jam is slathered onto pastries. The elder tiefling is still dressed in silken pajamas, a robe draped around her shoulders just so. She looks so elegant, even this early. Jester can’t help but admire. Looking down at her own outfit, the clashing colors stare back at her in all their horrific glory. Her cheeks begin to feel warm with blush.

She’s halfway through her first cup when her mother begins to speak again. “I saw you come in yesterday.”

Jester feels another rush of blood to her cheeks, stretching uncomfortably over the back of her neck to the tips of her ears. She honestly hadn’t realized that her mother has noticed, though she now feels ridiculous thinking otherwise. Of course her mother has noticed. Her mother loves her dearly, and Jester loves her back just as fiercely. “I’m so sorry Mama.” Her face crumples, her eyes tight and stinging at the corners with tears that threaten to fall at any moment. A small sob escapes through tightly held lips, and her resolve shatters.

Her mother quickly sets her tea aside, moving so that she’s sitting right next to her daughter now. Pulling Jester in tightly so her head rests on her mother’s shoulder, she comforts in hushed tones. “Oh my darling girl, my little Jester, I’m just glad you’re home and safe.”

Jester sniffs wetly, voice muffled from the robe. “I didn’t think you had noticed. I know I have to stay hidden, I understand, I just…I was worried that maybe you didn’t care, or that you were mad….” She trails off before the rambling can truly set in.

Her mother sighs and is silent for a moment. When she speaks again her own voice is tight with restrained emotion. “I’m not mad at all, I was just so worried. The world is so big and unkind sometimes. I was so scared you were lost-“ Her voice cracks, and Jester feels her shift to wipe at her eyes. “I’m just so glad you’re home.”

The two sit in comfortable silence now, wrapped around each other in tight hugs. The tea and scones lay half drunk and eaten, forgotten amongst the emotional outpouring. As the tea grows cold, her mother finally pulls back, only slightly, but enough to get Jester to look up. In a soothing, but firm tone, she says, “I do think we need to talk about why you snuck out like that in the middle of the worst storm of the season though.”

“Yes…” Jester hesitates. She didn’t want to give away Fjord’s secret, but she did not want to keep lying to her mother either. Weighing both against the other, she makes her decision. With a deep breath she barrels forward. “I- Mama I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone, please, please you absolutely have to promise.”

“Jester you’re worrying me.”

“Please, please.” Jester pleads, sitting up straighter now, hands clasping around her mother’s own warm hands. “I want to tell you, but you cannot tell anyone else. Someone’s life could depend on that.”

Her mother looks no less mollified, but nods solemnly. “I trust you. You have my promise.”

Jester nods vigorously and jumped into her story, starting from that first night when she thought she had seen something chasing her, to hers and Fjord’s first meeting, the research she did with books from Caleb, and everything that had happened after that.

Her mother listens to it all in rapt silence. Her face twists dangerously close to anger when Jester tells her about the storm, but falls into relief when Jester tells her of Molly’s friends, how they had found her, and how they were helping make sure Fjord was okay, but that she hasn’t heard anything yet and she is so worried.

By the time she finishes her heart is pounding a nervous rhythm in her chest that even the gentle warmth of the Traveler’s touch, like a comforting hand on her shoulder, can’t break through. Her mother’s face is unreadable as she processes everything she’d been told. When she finally begins to speak, Jester’s heart leaps into her throat. “You care a lot about this man, yes?”

“Oh yes Mama! Very much!” And in that moment Jester realizes just how true that really was. In the short time she had known Fjord, she had grown attached to him in a way that she had never felt before. She could only hope he felt the same, though the miniscule part of her that felt this was true scared her more than anything. “He is…he is my best friend.”

Her mother sighs, but continues. “Then I might know how we can help him. That bookseller who helped you with your research? He is a wizard. It is possible that he would not only know of magic that could help, but could practice it himself.”

Jester’s mind reels. Caleb was a lot of things, a nerd, a grump, very quiet, but a wizard was not what she was expecting at all.

Touching her arm, her mother brings Jester’s focus back to her. “I will contact him. Soon as you hear from Molly’s friends, tell me, and I will see what can be done.” Her face is impossibly soft, and Jester nearly bursts into tears again.

Instead she bursts up, throwing her arms around her mother in the tightest embrace. “Oh thank you Mama! Thank you so so so _so_ very much!” Her mother hugs her back, then kisses the top of her head.

With disappointment in her voice and in her gaze as she looked towards the door, her mother says, “I have to go take care of business now, but will you be okay?”

Jester nods. “I’ll be fine, Mama.” She reaches up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “I love you very very much.”

Jester’s mom smiles wide. “I love you so much too my darling girl. Never forget that, even when our situation is unfortunate.” There is something far away in her voice.

Jester presses a hand to her heart and nods. As her mother leaves, leaving the tea and scones behind for Jester to pick at as she pleased, Jester flops back onto the bed with a dramatic bounce, suddenly feeling deeply drained. Her heart glows with warmth, from the Traveler, from her mother’s understanding, and from her thoughts of Fjord. As that warmth spreads throughout her limbs, her eyes grow heavy, threatening to fall into a doze. With any hope Beau and Yasha would contact Molly soon. Until then all that could be done was wait.

\--XXXXX--

Jester wakes suddenly an hour or so later, sleep-sticky and tired. A rapid knocking at her door signals Beau’s presence better than the woman’s voice could. Jester stumbles to open the door and smooth her mismatched skirts down at the same time.

“How is he,” she demands as the door swings open. She knows her voice is groggy and her eyes bleary but she’s going to get her information, by the Traveler.

“Hey, it’s alright!” Beau holds up her hands, the cerulean scarves wrapped around her looking a little scuffed up. Behind the monk Yasha looms with her arms crossed, but Jester knows by now that’s just her default state.

She steps aside to let them in and closes the door with as much intimidation as she can muster. Yasha raises an eyebrow and Beau keeps her hands up. “Fjord is fine. He got a little beat up in the storm, but he’s not really hurt.”

“How much is a ‘little?’” exclaims Jester, eyes wide. She knows the stress of the past couple days must be getting to her, because Yasha walks over and places a comforting heavy hand on her shoulder.

“You were worse off than him,” she says softly. “Although, when we went to see him, we weren’t expecting, um.” She glances at Beau, who shrugs. “The tentacles.”

“Yes, he is very special,” answers Jester absentmindedly. Her head is still reeling with all the information and slowly a plan begins to descend on her. “I have to go see him again. I had a talk with my mother.”

“The Ruby?” asks Beau, from where she’s been curiously checking over Jester’s desk. She crosses her arms, voice tight. “Jester, I know she’s like, our employer. But you shouldn’t let your parent decide who you can hang out with. It’s your life.”

Jester shakes her head and moves to sit down on the bed. She tucks her hands under her thighs and kicks her feet. “No, no. Mama was very understanding. She told me… she told me how I can help Fjord, actually.”

“What?” Beau still sounds tense, but uncrosses her arms.

Jester nods seriously. “Apparently, I know a wizard. I have a plan, you guys. Meet me by the farthest dock, at first light tomorrow…”

As she talks, Jester feels the old excitement start to seep back into her. Beau and Yasha listen intently, and need a lot less persuasion than Jester was expecting. There is a strange sense of knowing, of fulfillment in the room. A rouge breeze plays around the bottom of her skirts and calms some of her anxiety. “I will go find Molly.”

\---

Jester has caught the booksellers right as most of the other merchants are packing up. She’s glad that their schedule’s been committed to memory for a long time now.

“I am sorry, he’s a… what?’ asks Caleb, eyes wide. The question had come right after: “You’re _who’s_ daughter?” Behind him Nott peeks out from a stack of velvet-lined books. Jester’s gone to their stall as soon as she could, careful scrutinizing the bookseller before deciding to trust him. Nothing about the pair’s nondescript cart or clothes suggests any wizardry. Perhaps real wizards are less flashy than the famous ones Jester hears tales about.

“I know it is hard to believe, but Fjord’s real! And in a really bad spot right now!” Jester is babbling and she knows it, her tail lashing from side to side. She can’t help the worry that’s been bubbling over since talking to Beau and Yasha. If Caleb can offer any help at all, this trip will have been worth it.

Molly is lounging at the entrance, arms crossed. He’s playing tough to help lend credibility to Jester’s case, but she knows that he’s delighted to have an excuse to be here. He coughs to catch their attention and uses the charming voice that makes him so popular as a performer.

“I might have not met this man, but I think we can all agree Jester is trustworthy.” Mollymauk had been enraptured when Jester finally spilled about her mysterious “sailor.” He’d believed her immediately as well, something she’s grateful for (“I’ve seen weirder in the circus, darling.”) Caleb’s eyes flicker between the two of them anxiously, and it’s probably only on the Ruby of the Sea’s reference that he’s not throwing them out right now.

“He was in an accident. A magical one. He developed these powers, and he’s also not as orc-y anymore.” As Jester stumbles Caleb’s eyes finally show a sheen of interest.

“A magical accident?” The wizard looks back at Nott, who shrugs at him. “I, uh. What is your plan for this?”

Molly smirks from the corner. Jester stands up straight. “I want to help him. I think that, that if we go back to the reef where he drowned, we can find out what happened. And you are the one who knows magic, so you have to come!”

Mollymauk speaks up. “If it’s coin you’re after, we can provide that.” He juts his chin up at Caleb, his accent bleeding through. “Or connections.”

Nott clambers over to the small group, Caleb shifting naturally to allow her to scale him and perch on his shoulder. She whispers into his ear and they have a brief, heated conversation.

“Alright,” says Caleb finally. He rubs at the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Alright. Tell me more.”

\---

It is very late that night when Jester finally works up the courage to visit her mother’s room. The hours of the day had been spent packing, reading, checking up on all of her friends’ packing, and finding every last coin she had.

She clutches the bag of money to her chest, every nerve tight. The soft wooden door of the Ruby’s private quarters is so familiar. Everything in the _Oyster and Pearl_ is familiar. This is her _home._ Jester might have fun with her little excursions, but she’s never truly belonged anywhere else. Now, though, something new is on the horizon, and the ocean won’t stop calling.

Jester takes a deep breath, mouths a short prayer to the Traveler, and knocks on the door. There is hardly a second’s wait before it swings open and her mother is there, red skin offset by a deep blue bathrobe.

“Jester, darling, what’s the matter?” Mama looks concerned. “Are you feeling alright?” Jester’s throat closes on her and she shuffles into the room, sinking onto the plush bed. How many times has she slept here, frightened by the storm?

Her mother sits beside her. Gently: “Does this have to do with your friend?”

Jester nods. “Yes, Mama. The… the wizard you sent me too, I think he will be very helpful. But first--” her hands worry at the bag and her mother’s sharp eyes flash to the burlap-- “first we have to get us all there. Um, that is why I’ve brought this.” She suddenly pushes the bag into her mother’s hands and watches, on edge, as the woman peers inside. One of the many gold coins within is held up to the light.

“I want to buy a boat,” whispers Jester, mouth dry. “I know I don’t have _that_ much experience but I have lots of friends that do and I want to help Fjord, Mama. But I think to do that I have to… I have to…”

“You have to leave,” the Ruby answers softly. “Oh, my darling.” She turns to wrap an arm around Jester and Jester pushes her face into her mother’s shoulder. Her lap is weighted down as the coin bag is given back to her. Jester sniffs and looks down in surprise.

“My daughter, I wouldn’t make you buy your travels.” Jester feels a gentle hand under her chin and lifts her head to make eye contact with her mother. The Ruby takes a deep breath. “To keep you safe here, love, I’ve had to hide you. I knew there would be a day where you would get tired of being cooped up. You have such a large spirit, child. You’ve grown so independent, even of me... I knew you’d want to see the world.” Before Jester can say a word past the forming tears in her eyes, she continues: “Keep this for your journey. I will give you a boat, free as goodwill. I’ll tie it to that dock you favor.”

“You knew about that?” Jester wipes her eyes on her sleeve, trying to steady herself. Her face feels hot.

“There’s a lot I knew,” answers the Ruby. “It was my job to keep you safe. Now it is your job, and your friends’.”

“I love you, Mama,” cries Jester. “I will visit when I can, when we’ve helped Fjord. I’ll write about it, and give it all to you when I come back.”

A sense of safety and relief descends over her as they share a last embrace. The call that began with a stargaze is finally coming to fruition. Around her, both her mother’s hug and the glow of her holy symbol lull Jester to sleep.

\---

At first light, Jester leaves the _Oyster and Pearl_ with Molly, to meet with the others. She’s woken up even before the dawn to pack away the things she thinks that she’ll need and say her goodbyes. There aren’t a lot of people to say goodbye to, but all of them are bittersweet.

At the end of her dock, Beau and Yasha are already waiting. At the same time the bookseller and his assistant crest the hill, looking shabby and uncomfortable. A shout breaks the still morning air.

“Oh!” exclaims Beau. “Oh hey Caleb! _You’re_ the wizard she was talking about?” Behind her, Yasha also looks vaguely stunned. Frumpkin jumps out of Caleb’s arms and runs down the dock towards them.

“Uh,” Caleb stutters in his charismatic way. He hesitates, then snaps, teleporting the cat instantly to Yasha. Frumpkin leaps and scales her without difficulty. Molly pushes past to go hug Yasha, then settles to pet Frumpkin, who purrs in the aasimar’s arms.

“It’s true!” pipes up Nott from behind Caleb. “He’s very magical, he can do all sorts of things.” The group forms up at the end of the dock. Jester is nearly vibrating with excitement, looking at all of her friends finally in one place. All of her friends except one.

“And you were going to tell us _when?_ ” complains Beau, as Yasha hands the cat back to Caleb.

“You are, you are just the people who sometimes come to play with Frumpkin here. My magic is uh, a sensitive part about myself, I would not reveal it to just anyone.” Caleb hugs Frumpkin to himself.

“Well, we’re all in the know now, friend,” laughs Mollymauk, patting the wizard on the back. Like the rest of him, the heavy travelling pack he’s got slung over one shoulder is brightly colored and patterned. All of them have packed to various degrees, although it is clear some have brought more than others. First light is barely breaking over the horizon.

Moored to the end of the dock is a gorgeous boat, one-masted and brand new. The dock’s pulsing blue lantern reflects, shimmering, against the waves lapping at its hull. Beyond the white-and-blue trim Jester can see provisions stacked heavily on the deck. The craft is smaller than a full ship, but obviously functional for their needs.

“Oh, this’ll be fun,” calls Molly as he becomes the first to carefully walk up to the boat. The others follow in their own ways, Beau glancing appreciatively at the sturdy craftsmanship. Caleb shakes his head in disbelief, allowing Nott to cling tightly to his back as they make their way to the deck.

Jester does the honors of raising the gangplank, twirling her skirts and watching in delight as her friends explore their vessel. There are small, but usable cabins, and enough to keep them going for at least a month or two. Beau only glances over at Yasha once before quickly scaling the rigging and making her way past the mainmast. Far above, she points out towards the coast, to where Fjord’s cave hides from view. It spurs Jester into action.

“Alright everybody!” she yells. “We’re getting this thing sailing! If you know how to sail, go be useful, if you don’t, I’ll teach you!”

She’s so excited Jester almost forgets to look back at the manor slipping away from them. The ship sluices through the water so easily it almost feels as though they’re not moving at all. She pauses from sitting on the deck where she’s coaching Caleb through a few paragraphs concerning nautical navigations (Caleb, while a superbly fast learner, is best suited for the less physical jobs.)  

Behind them, the clouds are streaking across the sky, clearing out as the day begins to warm. The rising sun is blush-pink on the horizon. As the coast bends, all the boathouses and fading lights disappear from view. Jester is still until she shakes her head violently to break herself out of the reverie. In front of her, Nott-- who’s been avoiding the railings-- is staring at her with unexpected kindness.

“Be happy,” says Nott, smiling with too many teeth. “You can go back there if you need to.”

\---

When they reach Fjord’s grotto Jester splashes out into the shallows, ignoring her wet skirts. They have a lifeboat or two, but currently her mind has more pressing matters.

“Fjord! We’ve come back.” Despite the trust her has in her friends, a paranoid voice is whispering that Fjord is gone, that this whole thing has been for naught, that she’ll find one of his tentacles drifting lazily to her in the tide. Jester finds the shifting light of the cave and a splash on the far wall illuminates her whole heart.

“Jester!” Fjord looks stunned at her unplanned appearance. “Y’were gone for a few days.” He quickly ducks and swims over to her in the fluid way she’s come to adore. As soon as his torso is more-or-less above water she pounces and hugs him. Tough skin is cool and damp against her arms. He’s awkward for a second, staring past her shoulder at the others rowing their way into the cave, before gently hugging her back.

“You all right?” His eyes, glowing yellow in the dim light, are pretty and concerned.

She punches his arm playfully and he winces. “I am now! I was so worried about you!” She gestures to the others, who in moments are floating beside where they rest in the water. “I’ve got a surprise for you!”

“Wait, you didn’t talk to him about this beforehand?” says Beau at the same time Jester grabs the front of Caleb’s boat and drags it over.

“This is Caleb Widogast, he is a super powerful wizard and knows all sorts of magic and things like that and we’re going to go on a _journey_ to help you so that you can be, y’know, like the regular person from before the reef and the glowy drown-y stuff that happened to you.” Fjord by now is used to Jester’s fast speech and he blinks through this information admirably for one in his position. He looks to the red-haired human in front of him. A beat passes.

“Is that true?” he asks softly. Silence descends as Caleb clears his throat.

“I think that, what our friend here meant to say, is that I am… interested in these magical abilities you have uh, so suddenly gained. As well as the circumstances of your transformation, she says you drowned?” Despite the hesitant undertone to Caleb’s voice, his eyes shine with interest as he observes Fjord.

Noticing, Fjord lifts a mottled tentacle out of the water to allow Caleb and Nott to study it. “That’s correct, yeah. Um.” He swivels in the water to look around at all of them, awe in his tone. “If you… if all of you, are willing to help me, I’d be much obliged.” He swallows, the lighter green at his throat shifting. “I’d be very grateful.”

“ _Ja,_ well, Jester is a hard person to turn down,” says Caleb. He sticks out a hand and Fjord, looking bemused, shakes it. “We will make it work.”

In her soft voice, Yasha speaks. “It probably isn’t the best idea for you to stay at this… place… anyway. It’s not the most stable, I’d be worried if another storm passed through.”

“Don’t worry,” pipes up Molly. He’s been watching Fjord with wicked fascination. “We’ll be travelling in style.”

Fjord gives Jester a look that clearly says, _what did you do?_ She giggles at him and begins wading her way out of the cave. Yasha reaches over and lifts her into a lifeboat.

Fjord’s mouth falls open when he first sees their vessel. He dives into the water with a splash to swim faster to it, popping up and laying a hand on the hull like he can’t believe it’s real. “Jester! You got _this?_ ” He excitedly jerks a thumb at it.

“I had a _plan_ ,” announces Jester proudly. At Fjord’s shocked expression, her confidence suddenly falters. “I mean, if you are alright with this of course. If you have things that are important to get done in your cave like um, fishing we can go back and find a way to return the boat--” but he’s already shaking his head.

Fjord’s eyes are fond on her. “Jes, all I had here was you.” Jester blushes and turns away to hide it.

Soon after, the lifeboats are lifted, everyone on board except Fjord, who stays treading in the water. Burgeoning happiness is beginning to take over his features. “I haven’t been on a real ship since… well, since I had legs.” His face falls into confusion. “Uh, am I supposed t’ drag myself up there, or is there a tow rope, or…?”

“Over here!” calls Jester. On either side of the ship two large fishing nets have been attached, hammock-like. The tiefling hoists down the nets with ease from a pulley system. Fjord, wonderous, swims into one. “Whoa!”

Jester pulls again and the net is lifted partially out of the water, allowing Fjord to be carried alongside the craft without needing to swim. “It was my idea!” she calls down. Partially her idea, and partially the Traveler’s, who had shown her to the right fishing trawl diagram. “Do you like it?”

“I could get used t’ it.” On the ship proper, the group spreads out, taking their positions and depositing their possessions below deck. Above them the rays of sunlight are growing more solid, the day’s breeze picking up to whoosh around them. Seagulls call in the distance under the cyan-blue skies.

The deck, a rusty brown color, smells like wood varnish and fish. Caleb returns from hastily waterproofing his books, then grips the railing to call down to Fjord.

“If there are answers to your condition, they will be found quite far away.” Caleb stares down at Fjord inquisitively. “Going back to the source of your magic will likely be the most promising place to find them, to start at least.”

“You gonna be okay with that?” calls Beau from where she’s already halfway up the mast, clearly jumping off the deep end with regards to confronting her seasickness. Fjord relaxes on his back with his arms resting in the net. As if he’s in the finest bath of the manor.

“I think I’ll be just fine. I can even catch my own dinner on the way over.” In Fjord’s voice is the note of adrenaline all of them are taking up. Already the group of friends that had revolved around Jester are blending, becoming a cohesive unit. Luck, thinks Jester. _Fate,_ whispers a rogue sea breeze in her ear.

“I think we’re ready!” calls Yasha from her position at the wheel. Heads look to the sea in excitement.

“Wait!” yells Molly. He darts from his position beside Yasha, across the ship to the bow. “I’ve forgotten to bring a bottle. Does anyone have any champagne?”

Laughter echoes around them as they slowly pull from the coast into deeper waters. Far in the distance the chain of islands beckons, and beyond it, the alluring pull of the ocean proper. Jester conjures the map inside her head, imagining the far-reaching fathoms. Far in front of them, somewhere, is Tal’Dorei. Adventure thrums through her bones. She stamps her feet.

Below, Fjord’s green-brown-black tentacles swish in the water. “S’ bad luck to sail a craft without a name.”

“Don’t be worried, Fjord!” crows Jester. She glances over the side of the boat and smiles at Fjord, who smiles back, clear and excited from his basket of netting. She can taste the salt as she runs to the bow to join Mollymauk. Ahead of them the water is sparkling in the sunrise, a new day springing to life. The ocean is turquoise and endless, and it pulls on them all in a beautiful way. She shouts into the wind.

“I am sure that we’ll come up with something _wonderful._ ”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Authors in order, noted by "-XXXXX-":  
> Criticaldemiplane  
> Fuzzy-Face  
> (small flashback by CD)  
> Osroshallward  
> MamzelleCombeferre  
> Criticaldemiplane  
> -  
> i encourage you to check out my co-authors and the other fics produced from this event. also, i know NOTHING about ships, y'all  
> thank you so much for reading !


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